


Hangnails

by disillusionist9



Series: Choose Dare [34]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Cutesy, F/M, Fluff, Fred Lives, Grimmauld Place, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7930531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disillusionist9/pseuds/disillusionist9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble #34 of 100 | Hiding in the basement making cocoa to avoid the party upstairs, Hermione is startled when Fred comes to join her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hangnails

Cocoa warmed on the stove in the basement kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Hermione had debated over putting it all in a cauldron instead, due to the sheer number of attendees to Harry's Auror graduation, but decided she deserved a solitary cup or two.

Slipping out of the drawing room and downstairs was a welcome relief to the push of dozens of bodies and cacophony of voices talking over each other, congratulating Harry. She threw an automatic rude hand gesture towards the curtains covering the odious Walburga.

Fred and George worked to seal the curtains permanently shut within weeks after the battle at Hogwarts, the entire Weasley clan, along with Hermione and Harry, scouring each inch of the old townhouse to make it more habitable. With the aid of magic and tenacity formed from winning a decades long war, the job was quick work. The two still would not give up the charm they'd used, no matter what tactics she employed out of her arsenal, which admittedly were limited, as she did not intend to come anywhere near torture.

"Interested in sharing?"

Hermione dropped the lid back onto the saucepan, crashing like a cymbal, effectively covering her squeak of surprise. One finger got a bit too close to the metal rim, snagging on a hangnail she'd aggravated over the last few hours of forced and unwanted social interaction, so she stuck it into her mouth automatically as it started to burn.

Fred had his wand out in a second. He took her hand into one of his own to press the tip onto the scalded skin, casting a soothing charm she wasn't familiar with.

"Comes in handy, working with a pyro like George." Fred grinned handsomely and inspected her finger for any lingering traces of damage.

Hermione was acutely aware at how closely he was bringing her hand to his face. She convinced herself her flushed cheeks were from the embarrassment of burning herself and not handling it with magic, Ron's words from first year echoing.

 _Are you a witch or not_?

"George is the pyromaniac?" Hermione asked incredulously. "I always thought you were, I lost count how many times you went to get your eyebrows regrown. You were worse than Seamus!"

"Well, if you were watching me closely enough to count the number of times I went to regrow just my _eyebrows_ …" Fred released her fingers but did not step away from her. "Then you'd have noticed I was playing victim to my twin."

Hermione slowly sucked in air through her nose, as quietly as she could. How long was she holding her breath?

Fred noticed. Of course he did. He was watching her lips intently with an expression as warm as -

"The cocoa!"

Hermione's sudden outburst popped the bubble of tension. Spinning away from Fred's chest that had somehow gotten pressed against her upheld hands, she non-verbally summoned a pair of oven mitts to slide onto her hands. Deftly removing the cocoa from the heat and turning off the stove-top, she heard the clink of two mugs behind her.

Fred stepped up behind her, not quite touching, and levitated a serving of the dark chocolate drink into mismatched mugs. He settled at the table, facing her, inviting her to sit across from him with a sweep of his hand.

The cup waiting for her was her favorite, the one with the thin rim and a chip in the handle that fit her pinkie snugly for balancing the overlarge mug. Settling across from Fred, feeling sheepish and shy for no reason at all because this was _Fred_ , Hermione sipped her cocoa in contented silence, and certainly did _not_ rest her calf against his beneath the table.


End file.
